


Waffle House

by Strength_in_pain



Series: John and his boys [32]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Diners, Gen, Parent John Winchester, Parental Spanking, Waffles, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 22:59:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18040718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strength_in_pain/pseuds/Strength_in_pain
Summary: Young Dean and Sam get into a food fight at a Waffle House.





	Waffle House

**Author's Note:**

> So...someone wanted a ‘strict’ John fic. So here you go. ;) 
> 
> (He’s not that bad.)

**Waffle House**

**Greenwood South Carolina, Summer of ‘86.**

**Dean 7, Sam 3.**

 

The half a dozen customers glanced up as the door swung open, moved by a blast of cold wind. Unlike the outside, the interior of the Waffle House was warm and cheery, with bright lights and colorful walls. The customers returned to their conversations as the door swung closed behind the new family and the cold breeze was forgotten. 

 

The tall, dark and handsome man who goes by the name John Winchester shuffled his two kids into a booth. 

 

Carrie, the cute little brunette waitress with a nice thin waistline was eyeing John from behind the counter. 

 

“Forget it Carrie. He has two kids.” Said her best friend Hannah. They were both in their mid-twenties fresh out of college and on their way to grad school, but they needed some extra cash so they were taking a few off years to work in the Waffle House. 

 

“But he’s so young looking.”

 

“I’m sure he’s not that young.”

 

“I call dibs on his table.” Carrie said. 

 

Hannah laughed. “Whatever you say.” 

 

Carrie smiled at the man, but when she got closer she noticed how young the two boys were and even more depressingly, she saw the ring on their Dad’s finger. 

 

“Hi. I’m Carrie.” She said rather awkwardly. An older employee, in her mid-thirties was passing by, so Carrie grabbed her shoulders and held her in place. 

 

“This is your waitress, Tammy.” 

 

The older woman smiled, “I guess I am.” She waved her hands with a large grin, then turned to glare at Carrie. 

 

Carrie gave her a sympathetic smile then ran off. She didn’t mean to give her fellow employee more work, but she felt too weird around children. Tammy was better with kids. 

 

“Hi guys. What’ll you have to drink?” Tammy clicked her pen off of her note pad. 

 

“I’ll have coffee, regular, and the boys will have chocolate milk.” 

 

“Okay. One regular coffee and two chocolate milks coming right up.” 

 

After she was gone behind the front counter, John turned back to his two hyper children. 

 

“Figure out what you want to eat.” He said gruffly to his eldest son, Dean. 

 

The boy wasn’t listening, though. He was too busy playing with his little brother, Sammy. They were both invested in the toys Pastor Jim gave them. It was two hot wheels, but damn his kids loved playing with those toy cars. 

 

“Dean. Read the menu.”

 

Once again John was ignored because the car race was still going on. They drove the cars all around the table until they wreaked into each other. Then they started again. For some reason, Dean and Sam thought this was the best thing ever because they laughed like hyaenas every time the cars smashed. 

 

“I’ll order for you if you don’t stop playing.” John said. He signed as his kids continued to ignore him. Fine. John ordered two ham and cheese sandwiches and two hashbrowns. 

 

“And for you, sir?”

 

“I’ll take the double original angus cheeseburger.” 

 

“Alright. Your food will be out in a few minutes.”

 

John smiled at her and took a sip of his steaming hot coffee. The burn on his lips felt so good considering he spent the past four-hours shoveling driveways for extra cash. Credit card scams are great. But John has to be careful with it. The last thing he needs is to be thrown in jail because then his boys will be alone. No, he wasn’t going to get sloppy. So he sucked up his pride and shoveled a bunch of driveways. 

 

“Get off. That’s my road. Stop it Sam. You’re ruining my road.” 

 

John snorted as he watched his son’s face their cars all over the table. The ‘road’ Dean was talking about, was a neatly placed out line of crayons. Actually it was two lines and Dean was using them as roads for his toy car. Smart and creative kid, John mused. 

 

“Get away.” Dean shoved Sam’s hand back. 

 

Possessive as crap, but creative nonetheless. 

 

“Daddy, Dean won’t let me play with him.”

 

“He’s ruining my roads, Dad.” 

 

“Dean.” John has to put a little warning in his tone. It works. Dean begrudgingly lets Sam drive his car through his crayons and inevitably mess them all up. 

 

“Here you are.” Tammy says with a smile, placing the food in front of John and his boys. 

 

“What is it?” Dean asked with his nose scrunched up. 

 

“It’s a ham and cheese sandwich you’ve had them plenty of times before.” John laughed. 

 

“It’s not a waffle.” 

 

“No. It’s not.” 

 

“I wanted a waffle.” And if John didn’t know any better he could have sworn to see his seven-year-old shove his plate away. But Dean wouldn’t do that. He knew better. So why the hell was John looking at a disheveled plate and a pouty little boy.  

 

“I’m so sorry. I thought you said Ham and Cheese sandwiches.” The waitress said, biting her lip. 

 

“I did.” John quickly soothed. He spun around to face his poorly behaved son. “Dean, apologize, now.” 

 

“No.” Dean mumbled, looking down at his plate with a scowl. 

 

John huffed. He turned to the waitress to assure her everything was fine. 

 

“It’s what I asked for. Everything’s perfect. Thank you.” 

 

Tammy smiled gratefully, then took her empty tray back. 

 

Dean picked up his sandwich and called out, “Here take this with you.” But Tammy didn’t turn around. She was biting her lip to keep from smiling now. Her friend, Carrie was standing wide-eyed. 

 

“What the hell happened?” 

 

“Kid wanted a waffle.” She said, biting her lip. “Should we make him one?”

 

“Not unless the Dad orders it.” Carrie said. “Maybe he wants a cheaper priced item, you know? You can never be sure why people order what they do.”

 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Tammy said. “You’re right about the man being cute too. His brown eyes are dreamy.” 

 

“Tammy, you’re married.” 

 

“I know.” She said, “I’m not saying I’m going to do anything. I’m just sayin’ he’s cute.” 

 

John was sitting next to Dean now, he had put Sam on the other side of him so he was in between both of them. 

 

“That was very rude, Dean. You know better than to push your plate away and act like that.” 

 

“But Dad, I wanted a waffle.” 

 

“Then you should have told me what you wanted when I asked you. Instead you ignored me, so now you’re going to eat your ham and cheese sandwich.” 

 

“Fine.” the boy said, looking at his sandwich with disgust. 

 

John turned to his youngest son who was still busy playing with his toy car. He lifted up the booster seat and put in on the booth. 

 

“I don’t want a baby seat.” Sam whined a little too loudly as John tried to set him down. 

 

“Don’t yell.” John quietly warned. He was growing frustrated as Sam resisted by refusing to bend his legs enough for John to slip him in his seat.

 

Sam shot his father a rebellious look, his refusal all but verbally stated. 

 

“Samuel.” John’s voice dropped low in warning. 

 

Sam’s small foot violently kicked the booster seat. What has gotten into his children? 

 

John began counting, “One.” 

 

That got Sam to quickly planted his butt in the plastic seat without further complaint. At least the three-year-old knows when it’s time to stop. 

 

“Okay. Just so we’re clear. There will be no hitting, no yelling, no kicking, and no shoving. Got it.”

 

“Yes sir.” Dean mumbled. 

 

“Yes sir.” Sam said, repeating his big brother.  John smiled and put a gentle hand on the back of Sam’s head. 

 

Dean took a bite of his ham and cheese sandwich. “Yuck.”

 

“You like ham and cheese.” John said feeling his blood pressure rise. 

 

“It taste like shit.” 

 

 Unable to prevent the gasp from escaping his lips, John was physically taken aback. 

 

“Dean!” He managed to sputter out a second later. 

 

This time Sammy caught the attention of both his father and brother by loudly shouting the word, “shit!” 

 

“Stop.” John scolded, “Sammy that’s not a nice word.” 

 

“Dean said it.” the young boy whimpered. 

 

“Yeah, well Dean shouldn’t have said it. He was being bad.” 

 

“You say it.” Dean shot back. 

 

Sighing in anger, John was at a loss for words. It took him a full minute to think of what to say. “Well... I ... little boys shouldn’t say things like that.”

 

“Why?” Dean asked. 

 

“Yeah why?” Sam repeated. 

 

“Because! It’s inappropriate.” John spluttered. He was suddenly feeling very tried and very old. 

 

“What’s inappropriate mean?” 

 

“Dean, just don’t say it. It’s impolite.”

 

“But Dad -“

 

“Do you understand.” 

 

“Yes sir, I guess.” Dean mumbled, already going back to poking his sandwich. 

 

“Can I have a waffle?” Sam asked. 

 

“No Sammy. Daddy already got you a sandwhich.” John said, pointing to the plate in front of his toddler. 

 

“I don’t want a sandwich.”

 

“Well too bad,” Dean said, “I don’t want this shit either, but we have to eat it.”

 

“What did I just say about swearing?” John asked in a scary tone. 

 

“Shit!” Sam repeated with a loud scream. 

 

“Jesus.” John muttered, blushing twenty different shades of red as the whole place turned to look at him. Most of them were wearing disapproving scowls. 

 

“Shut up, Sammy.” Dean said his eyebrows creasing in anger. 

 

Sam’s eyes narrowed, innocent face going dark. He looked at the bottle of ketchup near his elbow and back up at Dean. The next thing anyone at the table knew, Dean was gasping from the shock of ketchup hitting him in the face. 

 

“You little brat!” Dean launched up from the table, stood on his seat and dumped a whole glass of ice water over his baby brother’s head. 

 

Sammy shrieked in horror, wailing pitifully. Dean grinned triumphantly, until his father was picking him up. “We’re done.” 

 

But Sammy wasn’t done. Not yet. The distraught three-year-old managed to chug his sandwich directly at Dean. Unfortunately, his father got in the way. 

 

John gasped as his brand new dress shirt was covered in grease. He pivoted, lifting Sammy out of his booster seat quickly. At this point, John’s audience was gasping and chattering quietly. Some woman pointed directly at him before snickering with her girlfriends. 

 

As tempted as John was to kick his kids asses, he wanted to get out of the limelight. While he was watching the other customers, Sammy got his hands on Dean’s sandwich. Without a further thought, he threw it at his brother. This time it hit Dean’s head, getting chucks of ham and lettuce in his hair. 

 

Dean retaliated, grabbing the syrup bottle. Upon noticing his youngest throw the sandwich, John was quick to wrestle the syrup bottle away from Dean. He got it off of his stubborn child, but not without getting the sticky substance all over his hands. 

 

John thought for sure he was going to have an aneurysm right there in the middle of the Waffle House. He let out a ragged breath, deep color of red stuck to his clean-shaven cheeks. He turned and gave an apologetic look to the waitress before tossing a dark, threatening glower over to his sons, who went silent, at their father’s ominous demeanor.

 

“Daddy’s mad?” Sam whispered to Dean, shifting closer to his protector. Dean gulped, nodding sadly. 

 

“I am so sorry," John began, but the waitress held up her hand.

 "Oh, no, hey, don’t worry about it," Tammy stammered, trying hard not to burst out laughing. In fact, she was biting the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood to keep from losing it. "I have a little one myself, so I know how...you know."

 "Thanks," John muttered tightly as he threw his napkin down on the table, "We’re leaving," he sternly ordered, standing and reaching for his wallet. He tossed a few dollar bills on the table, then gathered both of his boys into his arms. 

 

Dean and Sam were more than a little scared as their father carried them into the men’s room instead of the impala. 

 

“Daddy?” Sam asked. He was placed on the floor next to his brother. Sam looked up at Dean, then his eyes shifted to the urinals. “I don’t have to go to the bathroom.” 

 

John heatedly grabbed a bunch of dry, scratchy paper towels and wetted them in the sink. He poured as much dispensable soap as he could on the towels, getting them super soapy. 

 

Then, he proceeded to spend the next fifteen minutes wiping the syrup and ketchup off his two son’s hands and faces. 

 

“Ow!” Sam cried, kicking the tiled wall angrily. “Not so rough.” 

 

“Oh I wouldn’t be crying just yet, kiddo.” John scolded as he scrubbed. 

 

“Just what on earth were you two thinking? I guess you just decided to misbehave today, huh? Because you know better than to throw a damn food fight or to be disrespectful to that kind waitress.” 

 

When John finished cleaning their faces, he threw away the towels and took Dean by the arm and bent him over. 

 

“I’m sorry!” Dean exclaimed miserably, stifling another sob as his father swung his hand down, cracking against Dean’s bared bottom once more. The sharp report echoed off the tiled walls of the restroom where Dean was bent over, head down, hands grasping the edge of the little sink in front of him for support. It hurt so bad, Dean thought his skin would fall off. 

 

“Damn it, Dean. I told you to behave today.” John argued as he delivered a volley of heated swats to his son’s reddened backside. “After yesterday’s prank war, I thought I made it very clear I wanted good behavior today.”

 

Sam stood, nose to the wall, next to his dad, awaiting his turn. He began to cry. “I don’t want a spanking,” he sobbed. 

 

“Yeah?” John snapped in return, never breaking stride on Dean. “Well, I don’t want to spend the rest of the day explaining to God and everyone else why my two smart ass kids have syrup in their hair.” 

 

“It’s your fault. Your the one who touched our heads!” Dean retorted, his tone sullen yet managing an edgy sarcasm. 

 

John answered him with another flurry of spanks to Dean’s already tender crease where butt met thigh, and Dean regretted his words and deeds immediately. 

 

“Dad stop you’re killing me.” Dean cried out.

 

“I think you’ll live.” 

 

“It hurts.” He whined pitifully. 

 

“Yeah, It’s supposed to.” 

 

Dean winced, adding a scalding yelp when his dad caught him in a particularly sore spot for the third time in a row.

 

Sammy was clinging to John’s shirt, sobbing hard, his butt on fire from the painful spanking his dad had just delivered to him. Even though his daddy had held him and rocked him afterwards, Sam wasn’t feeling particularly forgiving just yet. 

 

John had got both of his boys into the handicap stall in the men’s bathroom. This way he had room to manage both boys. He had the duffle bag with him because he had to drive throughout the night. So he needed to change the boys into their PJs. 

 

Dean was slumped against the wall, still not looking at him. Sammy wouldn’t stop squirming in his arms, crying. And John just wanted to go to sleep. 

 

He set Sammy on the floor and wasn’t surprised when the boy rushed over to his brother’s side. 

 

“Dean use the toilet as I get your brother settled. Sammy, come back here.” 

 

Dean folded his arms and shook his head. John was more than tempted to just swat the kid again. 

 

“I’m not in the mood, boy. Do as your told.” 

 

Dean didn’t move, he shook his head once more, looking at his Dad’s shoes. 

 

John turned to Dean and picked him up like he had Sammy. Dean groaned and pushed at his arms, but John just settled him over his knee and swatted him another two times before planting him in front of the toilet. Instead of allowing him to do it himself, John got Dean’s pants and underwear down and sat him on the seat as he did when Sammy had to go. 

“No more games, Dean. You take a leak and then you will get dressed.”

He picked Sammy up and began to get him dressed. 

“You’re mean.” Sam pointed out, but he wasn’t angry. 

“How am I mean, Sammy? Because I spanked you?” 

“Yeah.” Sam pouted. 

John sighed, “I did it because you didn’t listen to me and stop when I told you to. You continued to swear and you started a food fight with your brother.”

“It’s my fault.” Dean said while he zipped up his jeans. John reached down and dug out Dean’s pajama pants. He tossed them at his oldest. 

“How so?” John asked. 

“I was bothering Sammy. He was just trying to get me to stop. And he only said those words because I said them first.”

“Dean,” his Dad was being more gentle now, “Sammy’s old enough to know there are consequences for misbehaving. What he did tonight was not acceptable, but that’s on him.” 

“Ok.” Dean muttered, but John could sense he still had this chip on his shoulder. The amount of guilt Dean carried with him daily was unhealthy. 

“I’m sorry, Dad.” Sam said as he hugged his father’s neck. “I didn’t mean to be bad.” 

“I know Sammy. I’m not mad at you. And your not a bad kid. You just did something bad. I love you champ.” John patted Sam’s back, trying to provide that safety and comfort his child was seeking. 

“Can we get waffles now?” Dean asked hesitantly. He bit his lip with nervous anticipation. 

“Ok.” John laughed. “Hard to believe waffles started it all.” 

End. 

 

 


End file.
